


Haunted By The Ghost Of You

by zoodlino



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Angst, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Loss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-29 03:25:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19821571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoodlino/pseuds/zoodlino
Summary: "I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you."Arthur is gone and Eames ponders life without him.





	Haunted By The Ghost Of You

**Author's Note:**

> Title and summary quote from Lord Huron's The Night We Met. Hope this hits in all the right ways. xx

Arthur is everywhere.

In the gray lines of the buildings cluttering the streets. In the rogue pigeon pecking away at a danish, the oh-so-rare treat Arthur allowed himself, something Eames picked up on and made a point of grabbing from the bakery down the street on the off chance of seeing Arthur smile.

Arthur, who bled out in Eames‘ arms just over a year ago.

If Eames had someone to blame for it, maybe this burden would be less heavy. But in the end it was Eames‘ fault, his and no one else’s.

_When your totem is a person, what happens after they are gone?_

The funeral had been a short affair. Just a few obligatory words from the priest. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. And Eames, conspicuous in his paisley print suit, with no one to tell him just how hideous the garment was. It hurt in ways a bullet never could.

Dom is still around, intent on founding some sort of dead spouse support group, squinting sadly all the while. Eames dodges his calls and hates that Dom is alive and breathing and Arthur isn’t. This is the person he’s become, mind full of cobwebs and a number he can’t call anymore.

Eames has started to remember that he can’t talk about Arthur in the present tense.

A shot to the head would have at least been quick. No, Arthur wasn’t that lucky. His death was a drawn-out, painful affair, something Eames wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy. Sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night yelling out for Arthur to run, even if his dreams only ever capture a shade of Arthur’s existence.

A shade. Part of Eames wishes Arthur haunted his dreams as a shade, but in that precise, unparalleled stubborn fashion, Arthur doesn’t slip into his consciousness. Part of Eames is grateful.

After Arthur, the world seems less sharp. Details become indistinct, corners blur, and Eames can’t bring himself to give a damn. Bodies flit around him, an indistinguishable fog of human flesh. Days pass, not because Eames wants them to, but because the passage of time doesn’t care about horrible personal tragedies.

Arthur’s last words haunt his mind the way a shade never could. _I’m going to sleep now, Mr. Eames._ Even in death, Arthur showed no lack of wit. As for Eames… Eames is left aching. And nothing can quite fill the void.

Echoes of Arthur linger all around Eames‘ apartment like a forgotten cup of tea, growing colder by the minute.

Some days, Eames sits on his couch, impossibly still, weighing his Beretta in his hands. He won’t, but he could, and somehow, that is comfort in a place where nothing seems to hold much solace anymore.

Eames should have known, should have done his own background check on Montgomery, not that anything ever escaped Arthur’s impeccable research, but Cobol Engineering doesn’t forgive, and so Eames ended up cradling Arthur as he died.

How did Snicket so eloquently phrase it?

Darling, dearest, dead. 


End file.
